In the opening round of Andrew Luck vs. Robert Griffin III, we’ll award a TKO to Roger Goodell.

Griffin was remarkable in his pro debut. Like most people who must devote a large part of their brain function to staying awake through the afternoon, I have no idea what the quarterback rating number means. Griffin’s 139.9 apparently makes him 28 times better than Cleveland rookie Brandon Weeden. Weeden’s 5.1 QB rating rates him somewhere between “legally blind” and “armless.”

On a side note: Cleveland continues to be cursed. Don’t go there if you wear a pacemaker. The miasma you see fluttering above the city isn’t heat rising. It’s a cloud of pure evil.

Griffin’s numbers will be what gets talked about (320 yards passing, two TDs, including an 88-yarder). But what really impressed was his breezy calm in the NFL’s most withering hothouse.

New Orleans did not lose a game at home last year, in large part because opponents are attempting the sporting equivalent of planning a bank robbery on the deck of an aircraft carrier. It’s too noisy under that dome to figure anything out.

But it was the Saints who seemed dazed for most of the afternoon.

The emblematic moment was corner Patrick Robinson, the 12th man on the field, lazily jogging to the sidelines during a Redskins punt. Instead of the Saints getting the ball back with real time to work, the resulting penalty sent Washington back the other way on another clock-chewing drive.

This is where Goodell comes in. The NFL commissioner likes to style himself as more of an apparatchik than a mob boss, which is how guys like Gary Bettman and Bud Selig want to be seen: The heads of the 30 families.

Goodell has never bothered with this sort of theatre. Men with actual power don’t need to be seen projecting it.

That air of imperviousness sprang a small, whistling leak this week when Goodell’s move to suspend four current and former members of the Saints involved in the bounty scandal was overturned.

Goodell responded with unusual emotion, sending an “open letter” to fans (Open letters: the preferred literary vehicle of whiners. Bet you Hemingway never sent an open letter in his life).

“We will aggressively protect the health, safety and long-term livelihood of our players,” Goodell lied smoothly. The “aggressively” in there is an especially nice rhetorical flourish.

Goodell does not care about the health of the players. If he did, he’d tell them to play golf instead. He is worried about the class-action lawsuit over brain trauma brought by thousands of former pros that continues to be an existential threat to the NFL. He is also worried about keeping the restive proletariat that works for him under control.

Nothing has changed on the safety score. During yesterday’s game, Saints tight end Jimmy Graham came across the middle and was obliterated before the ball reached him. Skins safety Madieu Williams lined him up, led with his helmet, launched into Graham’s facemask and left his feet. If one scored illegality, that was Nadia Comaneci right there. A perfect 10.

What saved Graham from serious injury was the height disparity between the two men. He’s six inches taller than Williams.

As Graham lay crumpled on the carpet, cameras caught Williams laughing with teammates. Graham was dragged woozily to his feet, and then came back out for the next down.

But it was important for Goodell to be seen punishing someone for the status quo. The fact that those four Saints got off Goodell’s hook allows the narrative to stray too far toward the truth — that these guys don’t need bounties as incentives to hurt each other. Their salaries are incentive enough.

As it turns out, the only suspension that mattered was one that stuck — that of head coach Sean Payton.

Last year, the Saints’ offence had 23 three-and-outs through their entire campaign — roughly one a game. Yesterday, they had four. In the first half.

Without Payton, the Saints’ offence does not work.

Without the offence pacing them and the crowd providing the aural assault that comes with a lead, the Saints were left relying on a porous defence. Griffin — who resembles John Elway with his arsenal of feints and fakes — thought them to death.

Whatever small momentum was building against Goodell ended with Washington’s 40-32 victory. The commissioner arranged the pieces. Griffin delivered the punishment.

Goodell may still take some sort of supplementary disciplinary action against the four escapees. He needn’t bother.

Thanks to Griffin, he got what he wanted. The Saints didn’t just look bad. They looked humbled.

And that is the truest expression of Goodell’s quiet and continuing power.

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